I Must Betray You(40)

We stood next to each other, watching the snow fall. Several minutes passed. He cleared his throat.

“An old woman is fast asleep when she hears a knock at the door.

Who is it? she whispers, terrified.

It is death, the voice answers.

Oh, good. I thought it might be the Securitate.”

I turned to my father, impressed. “Not bad.”

“Your bunu didn’t make them up on his own, you know.” My father smiled.

“Really?”

“C’mon, we used to joke around all the time when you were younger.”

“Yeah. I guess I had forgotten about that.”

What else had I forgotten?

I hadn’t forgotten the notebook for Mr. Van Dorn. It was a welcome distraction. I had started a letter and worked through several drafts. When I felt it was complete, I tore out the drafts and rewrote the letter on the very last page.

If I left the notebook on his desk, would Mr. Van Dorn think someone had accidentally forgotten it there? I decided to wrap it, like a gift, and put his name on it. I didn’t have any wrapping paper, so I used pages from Cutez?torii, the Romanian teen almanac. I flipped through my almanac, deciding which pages to use. The front section was always about Ceau?escu, so Luca and I read the almanac from back to front, starting with the comics and crossword puzzles.

I chose two pieces for wrapping:

The cover, because the title of the teen almanac, Cutez?torii, meant “Brave Ones.”

I also chose an interior page that featured Ceau?escu alongside an article titled “Romania—the Country of Creative Work.”

Yes, Ceau?escu’s plan was creative. But so was mine.

I opened Cici’s sewing basket, looking for a piece of string to tie the package. I rummaged through buttons, pins, Neckermann catalogs, and at the very bottom, a couple of coins, a piece of ribbon, and a ring of keys. I took the ribbon and secured the pages around the notebook. It definitely looked like a gift and, this being the middle of December, would probably be mistaken as one.

A gift of truth. That’s what Bunu would have called it.

And then I was finally ready.

Or so I thought.

Everything changed the moment I tucked that wrapped book in my bag. My heart took off from some invisible starting block. I began to sweat. Profusely.

I had never taken the notebook out of my closet. It lived beneath my mattress of rugs in the secret pocket under the vinyl flooring. But that Saturday, it would sit in my bag through the entire school day until I met Dan to go to the library. I hadn’t been summoned for Paddle Hands recently. What if the agent chose today for a visit? I had been so confident, a great pretender. But it now felt like the notebook had its own heartbeat in my bag. If the agent didn’t notice that, he’d surely notice the vein pulsing wildly at my temple.

But I had come this far. It was too late to change my mind. And I didn’t intend to.

I adjusted the strap on my bag.

And left the apartment.





50


    CINCIZECI




I made it to school.

On my way to class I spotted Liliana down the corridor, walking with a group of navy-pinafored girls. The girls were huddled together talking, but suddenly Liliana’s face turned.

Toward me.

Her hair was grasped by the uniform’s white headband, but her bangs obscured her eyes. I couldn’t tell where her gaze landed. Was she looking at me?

Or at my book bag.

The bag carrying the bomb.

I turned away and headed to class.

I sat through calculus, empathizing with my classmate who had cracked. I imagined it was me, jumping out of my chair and shouting.

    I’m an informer! There’s a bomb in my bag!

My grandfather’s dead! He was a dissident and my hero!

My heart is destroyed. I’m in love with Liliana Pavel!



Looking back, I should have said it all. Just let it fly.

But instead, I said nothing.

When class was over, I stood, leaving sweat prints of my hands on my blue trousers.

Comrade Director wasn’t in the hall. Now that Bunu was gone, was the agent finished with me?

I wasn’t finished with him. He was prominently featured in my notebook.

Luca lingered outside of the school building. I dodged him and rushed away.

As I made my way to Dan’s apartment, I thought through my plan. Dan usually left the living room to retrieve his coat. That’s when I would leave the notebook. But I needed an alternate plan. What if his parents were around? My last resort was to use the bathroom and drop the package in the TV room when no one was looking.

My conscience issued unwanted reminders: Writing negative things about Romania was illegal.

Exchanging items with a foreigner was illegal.

Defying the Securitate was illegal.

At that moment, everything about me— Was illegal.

Was I scared? Absolutely.

But I stepped off the bus.

I took a deep breath.

And walked straight to Dan’s apartment.

Sweating.





51


    CINCIZECI ?I UNU




I’m very sorry about your grandfather.”

That’s what Mrs. Van Dorn said upon opening the door. “Please tell your mother it’s perfectly fine if she needs additional days off.”